


Stolen Golden Expectations

by whereareyoucas



Category: X-Men: First Class (2011) - Fandom
Genre: Alternate Universe - Still Have Powers, Alternate Universe - Thieves, Charles is a Tease, Crimes & Criminals, Erik is not a Happy Bunny, First Kiss, Flirting, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-09-29
Updated: 2014-09-29
Packaged: 2018-02-19 06:52:58
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,614
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2378957
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/whereareyoucas/pseuds/whereareyoucas
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Eric is caught thieving the Xavier Mansion, but Charles doesn't really seem too upset about it.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Stolen Golden Expectations

The room was dark, illuminated only by the weak shine of the moon through the open curtains, and a thin beam of torchlight. The torch was lazily floating in the air, focusing on a man’s hands rifling lithely and silently through a chest of drawers.

Suddenly the hands froze in midair. In the next split second, light flooded the room from an intricate chandelier, and Charles was revealed to have been watching the thief from the doorway, clad in silky navy pyjamas.

With a flick of his wrist, the thief smoothly drew a gun on Charles.

“Don’t come any closer kid, or I’ll have to kill you,” he said, baring his teeth in a menacingly confident smile.

Charles smiled back, which threw the other man off a bit, and put his hands in the air in surrender, seemingly amused.

“You call me a kid, yet I’m only two years younger than you.”

“Oh? And how would you know that?” He asked, still pointing the gun at Charles despite the fact that it didn't seem to disturb him at all.

“I also know that your name is Erik Lehnsherr, you were born in Düsseldorf, Germany and you have mutated powers of metallokinesis. A very groovy mutation, if I may add.”

“You’re a telepath. Fuck,” Erik cursed. Charles smiled, a little too smug.

“It’s no matter, you can’t call the cops.”

Charles raised an eyebrow challengingly. The two floor lamps guarding the doorway came alive, curving to Charles up-held wrists and pinning him up against the adjacent wall. Yet the cocky little Arschloch hadn’t even flinched! He still had that solitary eyebrow raised in challenge, as if he wasn’t pinned helpless to a wall. Erik took a few steps closer. He had to make him flinch. He took a few more until they were almost nose to nose, and then he raised his hand to stroke down Charles’ cheek and give his most sinister smile.

Charles flinched then, but he didn’t think it was out of fear. His breath hitched, and he looked up through his eyelashes at Erik, with those perfectly aquamarine eyes as Erik stepped back, triumphant in breaking Charles' cool, even momentarily. And it really did only last a moment- two seconds later, Charles regained his teasingly smug countenance.

“Sorry to contradict you, my friend, but I could easily call the police if I wanted to.” With that, Charles’ mind took control of Erik’s. It was like a thick window had been placed between his brain and his body- he could still think, and sense, but he couldn’t control it. Charles only used Erik’s mind to free himself from the floor lamps, and then left Erik frozen in place as he crept up to him, almost nose to nose for the second time in as many minutes. He reached up and stroked Erik’s hair, leaning in so close that Erik could feel Charles’ breath tickling his ear.

“But I won’t,” he whispered, then backing off and releasing his hold on Erik.

For a moment, Erik looked wary, as if he was preparing for fight or flight, but then Charles telepathically transmitted an ebb of his warmth and honesty. Erik visibly relaxed, having no choice but to trust Charles’ sincerity.

“Why not? You do realise I’m stealing your possessions, right?” Erik asked, obviously dumbfounded by Charles friendliness. This was not the conventional way to treat people you find robbing your house in the middle of the night.

“Yes I do realise that, thank you very much, but none of this stuff means anything to me. You’d even be doing me a favour if you stole that ghastly little gold gargoyle.” Charles gestured to an unsightly statue on the mantelpiece. “It used to belong to my Nan, and I swear it has it in for me- it keeps glaring at me.”

Erik couldn’t help but smirk, eyeing up the ugly thing. Charles sat down on the armchair in the corner of the room, as if Erik was simply a friend he had over. The thief took this opportunity to pick at more of Charles’ possessions, as obviously, he didn’t give a toss.

“Even this?” Erik held up a picture in an ornate gold frame of a beautiful blonde girl. “Girlfriend?”

Charles smiled weakly at Erik, all the smugness from earlier drained away. “Sister. She’s in Australia at the moment,” Erik could hear the anguish in Charles voice. “She’s out there, living her life, while I’m stuck here,” he added quieter, as if he was speaking more to himself.

“Hmm.” Erik didn’t want to say anything. He should not be initiating into conversation with this man, but evidently, he couldn’t help himself. “Why are you stuck here?”

Charles glanced up at Erik, he’d forgotten he was even in the room. “Oh. It’s because of my father. If I moved out, he’d take me off the will, and the inheritance would end up going to God knows where. At least if it’s going to me, I know it can be used for good.”

Erik gave up trying to resist entering into civil conversation with Charles, and floated over two gold rimmed glasses to the table that Charles was sat at. As he did so, Charles wordlessly got an expensive looking bottle of wine from the cabinet across the room, and poured the two of them drinks.

“He’d scratch his own son off his will?” Erik asked, taking a sip of his drink. This situation was bizarre but Charles Xavier had a strange magnetic pull to him. Consequence of being a telepath, perhaps.

“He’s already scratched off his daughter.”

“Wow.” There was silence for a few moments. “Well, I should be going,” he said, looking at the window, but not actually making a move.

“No, you should stay and chat, we could play a game of chess?” Charles asked. Erik looked doubtful. “You do know how to play it, right?” Charles asked cheekily.

“Of course I do,” Erik retorted, then folded his arms resignedly. Charles had won him over yet again.

The game was made twice as intense due to the fact that every time either one of them was considering their next move, the other would be staring intently into their eyes, which was... distracting.

Nearing the end of the game, Charles spoke up with an unexpected question.

“Why do you steal?”

Erik didn’t know if he wanted to answer truthfully or not. “Why don’t you just go into my mind and see?”

“That would be rude.” Oh, the irony.

“Because I’m good at it. I try not to be greedy though- I only steal from those who can afford it.” At this Erik eyed Charles up almost accusingly.

That effectively ended the conversation until the game finished. “Congratulations,” Erik said, shaking Charles hand, fingers lingering a second too long. He then got up and crossed the room to fetch his black rucksack- his loot bag.

Charles got up to follow him across the room.

“Would you like to come round again, some when?”

Erik looked at him with mild disbelief, although quickly, he was becoming accustomed to the unconventional actions of Charles Xavier.

“You’re inviting a thief back to your house?”

“I have plenty more to steal.”

“I never do the same place twice.”

“Couldn’t you make an exception?”

Charles gazed at Erik hopefully. The hope aggravated Erik though, it was the hope of a person who always gets what he wants, in Erik’s perhaps biased viewpoint.

“So you want us to be friends? A thief and a rich boy who won’t give up his mansion to live his own life?”

“I-“ Charles stuttered, looking hurt and thrown off by Erik’s sudden attack.

“Or maybe you want to adopt me. ‘Let’ me steal your things. I’m not a charity.”

Charles frowned. “No, not charity, I was simply- I didn’t mean to insult you.”

Erik looked at Charles. He knew really that he hadn’t meant to insult him. He felt his anger die down a bit, and even felt a pang of remorse for attacking Charles like that. Charles must’ve sensed the emotion from him, each of them sighing in unison.

“Will I see you again?” Charles finally asked, coolly rather than hopefully this time.

Keeping eye contact, Erik shrugged.

‘Well in that case,’ Erik heard Charles’ voice reverberate in his mind, as the telepath leaned up to kiss Erik, who kissed back immediately. This- this is what the evening had been building up to. All the built up electric tension finally dispersed as they kissed, Charles pushing Erik against the wall slightly. Erik dropped his bag in favour of winding one hand into Charles longish hair, and one just above the waistband of Charles’ pyjama pants. They stayed like that, lips melting into each other, for an immeasurable amount of time, until, slowly, Charles drew back, a mindless smile gracing his face.

Erik smirked a smile back, and picked up his bag again. Before he left, he picked up the gold gargoyle.

“I suppose I should take this fellow off your hands.”

“Thanks.”

Erik athletically jumped on the window frame, then jumped down. Charles almost panicked- it was a three story fall!- before realising that Erik was floating safely down.

_A rich boy who won’t give up his mansion to live his own life-_

Charles tried to get to sleep that night, but his efforts were fruitless. He couldn’t stop thinking about Erik’s lips on his, of their conversation, of the electric atmosphere that had surrounded them. But he really, really didn’t expect to see Erik again. Erik was too proud to come back, he knew it. But there was nothing to stop Charles from hoping.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for readinggg!


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